Forgotten Regrets
by ttme123
Summary: Dave gets drunk at a party and does something he'll regret. Or, would regret, if he could. Rape/non-con, yaoi, DavexJohn, in John's point of view.


**Hey, guys! I know it's been a while since I was last able to post anything, and I'm not sure how much longer it will be. So, lacking an update in either of my chapter fics, I present you with this: my Homestuck oneshot. I mentioned this in the A/N of my Hetalia fic (which yielded a surprisingly small amount of results :/ ) and I honestly did not plan to post it, but I feel as though I owe some kind of writing to you (you being anyone who reads this.)**

**It's rated M for a reason (that reason being rape/non-con and yaoi), so if you don't like that type of stuff don't read. This is in John's point of view.**

**Please read and REVIEW!**

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You groan in misery, your rectangular-framed glasses riding up your face as you rub your eyes blearily. Your mind feels sluggish, the alcohol fogging up your thought process. Sighing, you sink into the pillows, trying to block out the noises of the intense party going on in the next room.

You entered this room 20 minutes ago at most, needing an escape from the insanity of the party, the dancing and the drinking. You've spent these last 20 or so minutes attempting to fall asleep, but you're still hyped-up on adrenalin and on the top of your game, ready for more hard-core partying.

You don't even open your eyes as you hear the door creak open, assuming it's just someone who came to relax too, and if it were actually a couple looking for some privacy that they'd leave for another room.

You allow one eye to lazily slide open as the bed shifts, someone laying down to your left. You turn to look, and recognize one of your childhood friends, your bro, Dave. Noticing he appears to have passed out, you close your eyes again, adjusting to the slight slope in the mattress.

As you begin to drift towards sleep, you don't notice him leaning closer until his breath tickles your cheek, and your eyes snap open as you lean away from him. He continues, though, sitting up and crawling towards you, shades still covering his probably blood-shot eyes.

"H-hey, Strider, man. What are you doing?" You grow slightly uneasy, noticing how completely and utterly wasted he is; he won't remember a single thing tomorrow morning.

"Mhmm, John," he groans lowly, throwing his left arm over your stomach and holding himself up on the bed. His chest is now over yours and his face is merely inches away.

"Dave, dude, cut it out," you turn away as he leans closer to you, the corner of your glasses lightly sliding against his shades, before he forcibly grabs you by the chin and roughly presses his lips to yours.

At this your eyes shoot wide open and you let out a startled cry, only to be muffled by his hungry kissing.

You push your arms against his chest and shoulders, attempting to throw him off of you, but even while drunk Dave is still stronger and, of course, heavier than you.

He is now straddling you, his weight mainly pressing against your stomach, making you more than a little uncomfortable. This combined with his relentless kiss leaves you breathless, and it isn't until black dots fade into your vision that he moves away.

"D-Dave!" Once again, you try to move out from under him, but he pushes your shoulders down into the memory-foam pillows and shifts lower, lighting a fire in your groin.

You can't help but moan and he notices this, shifting his hips until his already hard dick can be felt against yours through the two pairs of jeans.

"Dave! Stop, what are you doing?!" Your struggles increase as he begins adding pressure and grinding your hips together, not at all helping your situation down there.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Egderp?" He grins and simultaneously moans, thrusting extra hard against your defenseless waist as you begin frantically twisting and turning, doing your best to ignore the pleasure brought on by the pressure and friction against your half-erect member.

"Dave, stop! Please, you're drunk! You don't know what you're doing, please, stop!" Your voice rises with nerves as you begin to worry more and more about what his intentions in coming to this room were.

You almost sigh in relief when he picks himself off of you, seating himself to your left, until he firmly cups you through your pants, drawing out a gasp and a barely hidden groan as you reflexively pull your legs up to defend against your seductive intruder.

When he grabs your right arm and left hip, your struggles begin anew, and you release a babble of incoherent pleas while he flips you over, allowing you to catch yourself on your arms, and your legs splayed out behind you, quickly captured beneath his weight again as he first sits on your thighs, then supports his weight both with his arms and by laying across your back.

"No no no Dave please what are you doing please no stop don't please please don't Dave—"

His legs fall to either side of you and his right hand returns to your tented jeans as you continue your endless stream of pleas and cries for help, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you attempt to resist pushing your hips into his eager hand.

However, when he begins rocking against you from behind, holding your waist between his own and his needy hand, you find yourself reluctantly rocking along with him, your chant occasionally interrupted by a long and drawn out moan or whimper.

His chin hooks over your shoulder, his tongue exploring its way along your neck and earlobe, and his whispered words of comfort fall on deaf ears.

When he begins rocking especially hard against your ass you find yourself panting and pushing harder against his groping hand, your balls being expertly massaged as you remorsefully find yourself reaching your peak.

You can barely even find it within you to struggle against him when his hand begins to undo your zipper and release your fully-erect member from your suffocating jeans, and only push harder into the grasp of your childhood friend as he switches to stroking you while humping harder, faster and with more urgency behind you.

You can't help yourself and you climax, releasing your seed all over the party's host's sheets, still feeling his weight pushing against your— luckily –still-clothed bottom. He abruptly stops, but you know he hasn't satisfied himself as you can still feel the hardness pressed against you, and you open your eyes, seeing your glasses barely remaining on you, hanging past your nose and covered in the tears that didn't quite make it to the pillows that you now press your face into, covering up your sobs.

You aren't terribly surprised when you hear him unzip his own zipper, and merely flinch as he pulls down your jeans and boxers.

You begin again to writhe as he presses two dry fingers against your equally dry entrance, but you're easily restrained. A quick kiss is placed upon your lips as he suddenly pushes his digits deep within you.

You yelp in both surprise and pain, and shudder as your fresh tears are carefully licked up by a tongue absolutely _reeking_ of alcohol. You take deep, shuddering breaths as you try to find the strength within you to yell at him, or scream for someone to help you, or do anything besides just lie there and cry like a baby.

When Dave, in his drunken state-of-mind, deems you prepared enough, he removes his fingers and repositions himself with his cock standing at attention over your sore, bleeding and abused entrance, but then reconsiders, flipping you over again on to your back and rising to his knees.

Your eyes widen in fear as his erection presses against your sealed and bruised lips. With a sadistic and lustful grin, Dave reaches behind you and shoves four fingers into your ass all at once, and when you open your mouth to yell out—to scream—he quickly shoves himself deep within the recesses of your mouth.

At this you begin sobbing hysterically again, becoming more clear-headed and aware as your situation becomes worse and worse. He thrusts roughly in and out of your mouth, gagging you, _choking _you, keeping a firm grip on your ivory locks to hold you in place as he has his way with you.

Desperately, you attempt to loosen your throat and control your gag reflexes, breathing as much as you can through your runny nose.

Already half-way there, it isn't long before he thrusts particularly hard and jams his dick particularly deep, spilling his salty fluid down your throat and throughout your mouth.

He leaves his now flaccid penis in your mouth long enough to ensure you swallow most of his cum, and when he pulls out you double over, coughing and sputtering with both semen and saliva leaking down your chin as you take deep, heaving breaths.

You look up at him with tear-filled eyes, noticing that at some point he took his shades off, or perhaps they fell off, and his lust-filled gaze of garnet catches you off-guard.

Through the emotions, you find that you retain hope that perhaps he will be done with you, having finally cum. However, as you look him over, you notice him proudly sporting an already throbbing erection again, headed straight toward your arse.

Shaking, you attempt to back up, but only a mere two inches later your back is pressed up against the headboard, the pillows that should be squashed beneath you already discarded and on the floor.

Dave takes advantage of this and roughly grabs your hips, turning them so that he has a clear view of your ass. He murmurs something to you, pressing more kisses along your tear-stained face and gently stroks your hardly-erect cock back into its former hardness and height.

Not even giving you time to prepare yourself, the blond roughly sheaths himself, burying his shaft in your inadequately prepared hole. You scream loud and full this time, eyes slamming shut, and you know this is the loudest you've yelled so far this night, or perhaps even in your life.

He pulls out slowly, and quickly pushes back in. He keeps up a steady pattern: ouuut, _IN_, ouuut, _IN, _ouuut, _IN!_

Relentlessly he pounds into you, your own blood and spit acting as your only lubricant. At this point you're beyond tears or complaints, rather, you stare blankly past him as he pants over you, occasionally bending to suckle your neck.

The trauma of the situation, of being _raped_ by your friend, your _bro_, is almost unbearable and what makes it worse is that you know he won't apologize. He won't even know it happened. You alone will retain the memories from this night, and if you're unlucky enough, be haunted by them for years to come. Who knows if you'll ever be able to have an intimate relationship? Or even maintain a stable friendship again? These thoughts filter through your head as you try to block out the pleasure-filled groans emitted both by you and your temporary "lover".

When you finally reach release a second time, you only cry out, no words, no pleas, just a short cry. Dave continues for another two minutes, with you barely noticing in the guilty aftermath of your orgasm.

When he pulls out, you quickly curl up, as if protecting yourself, but when he wraps his arms around you and falls asleep you know it's over. You can't find it in yourself to get up and enjoy the party, but you're unwilling to lie beside your best friend after what he just did to you, so you get up and curl yourself into a ball in a corner of the room, after pulling your pants back up.

You wake up in the morning still in the corner and with a massive hangover, but also with a quilt thrown over you. After trying to fight off the headache enough to move again, you sit up and look at the bed. Strider is no longer there, and the dirty sheets and pillows have been removed.

You are relatively surprised to see that he has already woken up, much less been productive, but then you see the time and realize you just slept much longer than what you would have expected.

It appears getting raped takes a lot out of you.

When you finally get to your feet and stumble out of the room, you see the party's host slowly walking around, checking to see who is still out and who has already left. He glances at you and you see that he's suffering from a hangover very similar to yours, although you wouldn't be surprised if his was ten times as bad, as he truly was the life of the party. You know his parents will be back in three days, and assume that he is trying to preserve the house in order to keep the party a secret.

He glances wearily at you, and motions behind him, to the kitchen. Unsure of what he means, you trudge in that general direction, stepping over a few people that passed out while playing spin the bottle last night.

Glancing cautiously into the kitchen, you notice that Dave is the only occupant and grow visibly paler, regardless of the fact that you were pale enough already.

Slowly you walk over to where he is sitting at the table with a cold rag pressed to his forehead and plop down unceremoniously in the chair farthest from him.

He glances at you, and returns to grimacing after giving you a brief smile.

So he doesn't remember.

There is no way he would be able to act like that with you if he could remember what he did, or at least you hope so. You've known him for years, and he is your best bro. Under different circumstances he would sincerely regret his actions, but he was completely wasted last night and had forgotten everything.

At least one of you would be spared from carrying the burden of Dave Strider's forgotten regrets.


End file.
